A bit of my own history first. As I stated, I am gay. It took twenty-one years to accept that fact about myself. It was the summer of 1986, between my sophomore and junior years at Texas A&M. When I had arrived as an undergrad in the Fall of 1984, Gay Student Services Organization (GSSO) was still fighting the university in federal court to get official recognition as a student group. Despite not yet being “out,” I wrote letters supporting “them.” I was on campus - still in the closet - the day the Supreme Court chose to not hear A&M’s appeal of the Fifth Circuit Court’s ruling that they had to recognize GSSO.
So, back to Fall 1986. I joined the now-recognized Gay Student Services at the first meeting of the semester. Spring of 1987 I was elected Vice President, and became the de-facto President that summer. After I dropped out of college at the end of the Summer semester - facing the reality that I had been diagnosed with HIV - I left GSS, since I was no longer a student.
In 1989, a group of lesbians wanted to force the organization to change its name, from Gay Student Services to Gay & Lesbian Student Services (or GLaSS). Two former officers of GSSO and myself defended the original name of the group, as did a few gay women who found the term “lesbian” to be too militant. Ultimately, our side lost the vote, and the next month, none of the lesbians who had forced the change were there - and they never returned.
In 1997, Ellen Degeneres infamously came out on her sitcom, Ellen. She didn’t announce that she was a lesbian. She proudly stated (through the open microphone), “I’m gay.” Not, "I'm a lesbian." Gay. Most people, when coming out to friends or their parents, phrase it the same way, regardless of gender. It’s easier.
Jump forward to August 2000. After my thirteen year relationship ended with a crash, I decided it was time for me to do something for the gay community - something I’d been denied by my now ex. I set out to create an organization for queer faculty & staff at A&M. The name our committee came up with prior to the first formal meeting was Gay & Lesbian Professional Network. I wanted to avoid the mess that GSSO/GLaSS went through by being pro-active.
No such luck. At the first meeting there was a bisexual woman and a transgendered woman. Each insisted that their designation be included in the organization’s name. I’d thought ahead and made certain the it was in the bylaws, but that wasn’t enough for them. I pointed out how important it was that those outside our community - Texas A&M University being well-known as ultra-conservative - know who we were, and that a lengthy name or acronyms would just confuse everybody. After much debate and giving the members a month to consider, the vote was to name the group GLBT Professional Network.
I’ve done a great deal of thinking since then. Is it a detriment to our community to put every possible letter of the alphabet into every organization’s name for people to feel included? How do we decide the order of the letters - which comes first, and should that honor rotate? As you add Intersexed, Queer, Questioning, Asexual, Pansexual, Non-Sexual, Xenosexual, Unisexual, and more to the soup, wouldn’t it soon be easier to include every letter - just to be safe?
How about that Sesame Street song? “Ab kadef gee jeckly mnop ker stu witsez”? I’m sure Bert & Ernie would love to sing it for us. I’d bet the Muppesexuals want to have their personal label in any organizations name, too. Would you risk angering Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and Beaker by ignoring their demands?
Or shall we just pick the letter of the week out of a bag of Scrabble tiles? Of course, how many would we need to pick to make everybody happy? I don’t think there’s enough letters in the alphabet to make everybody happy.
And when the words are shortened to just the first letter, how can anybody know what they stand for? Perhaps A is for A-sexual. Or maybe Andro-sexual. Could be Almost-sexual. How about Any-sexual? When only those on the inside know what the letters mean - and even then, not everybody in the community will be aware - it divides us, and thus weakens us and our voice.
Why Queer Queer Queer, QUEER is the Word
While gay may suffice for gay men and women, it doesn’t quite work for all aspects of our community. A transgender person may begin life as a gay man, but become a straight woman. Somebody born with indeterminate gender can still be straight, but still consider themselves outside the “norm”.
This is why I feel it’s time for us to embrace the queer.
Perhaps it’s best to start this discussion with the definition of the word.
strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually different; singular
The main reason many people in our community dislike the word queer is that first meaning. While I myself often embrace my strange sense of humor, and relish in being seen as odd by somebody that doesn’t know me (or even by those who do), I do understand how the word can still hurt. Any word, used to diminish another, causes pain to the one targeted. I know. I’ve suffered the slings and arrows of verbal name-calling myself - was called queer (among other things) in high school a number of times.
But as we age, we should learn how to turn the negatives that life (and people) throws at us and make them positives. Much like turning the pink triangle patch that homosexual men were forced to wear in the Nazi concentration camps into a symbol of our struggle. We remember the pain by claiming the mark as our own. A way to announce to the world, “Never again.”
Now on to the second definition. I can understand being different, but what makes it unusual? Look around you. Every person is unique. Now look in the mirror. Okay, not the best suggestion because you look exactly like your reflection - only reversed. But use that to see what makes you different, especially unusually so. Do you realize that you aren’t seeing yourself as the world sees you? That the part in your hair appears to you to be on the right, but it’s actually on your left. Wow. That’s pretty unusual when you think about it.
As for singular, I’m going to defend this by showing my gayness. Why being singular is a wondrous thing. By using lyrics from a Broadway play. 'A Chorus Line,' to be exact.
One… singular sensation
Every little step he takes.
One… thrilling combination
Every move that he makes.
One smile and suddenly nobody else will do;
You know you'll never be lonely with you know who.
One… moment in his presence
And you can forget the rest.
For the guy is second best
To none,
Son.
Ooooh! Sigh! Give him your attention.
Do. I. Really have to mention?
He's the One!
There you have it. Queer embraces us all - not despite our unusual differences, or despite our singular-nes, or despite our strange and odd ways. Queer defines us because of these things. Queer brings us together, unites us, and strengthens us as a community. And that’s a good thing.
One last defense. The classic march chant. The one we say when “I’m mad and I’m not going to take it anymore” just doesn’t speak to us the right way.
“We’re here. We’re Queer. Get used to it.”
Or, in my opinion:
“We’re still here. We’re all Queer. You damn well better get used to it!”
We should not fear them, and if we are united in name, we become united in purpose, and the Power of Queer becomes invincible and unstoppable. And then they will fear us. We, the United Queers of America.
Especially when we don our gay apparel and it's not even a holiday.
